condition may be the means of rendering it more hopeful and more desirable; that false conceptions of it, on the contrary, cannot possibly do him any good, and will in all probability do him much harm; that truth is a highway, which may conduct him to heaven; but that error is a labyrinth in which he may be lost for ever.

Equally disposed is he to do justice to the several subjects of his contemplation. Cheerfully is he ready to feel and to acknowledge that he is just such a being as he actually is; that he is no wiser, no better, no more honourable, and no more safe, but just as lowly, as dependent, as ignorant, as guilty, and as much in danger, as truth pronounces him to be. With the humiliation, dependence, and precariousness of his circumstances he is satisfied, because they are ordained by his Maker. His guilt he acknowledges to be real; and, at the sight of it, willingly takes his place in the dust. His sufferings he confesses to be merited, and therefore bows submissively beneath the rod. Claims he makes none, for he feels that there is nothing in himself to warrant them; and, although he wishes ardently to escape from his sin and misery, he never thinks of demanding it as a right; but, so far as he is permitted, humbly hopes it as a gift of free grace, as a mere blessing derived from the overflowing mercy of his Creator.

Among the subjects which his situation forces upon his mind, the means of expiating his guilt become one of primary importance. After surveying it on every side, he pronounces the attempt hopeless; and sees with full conviction, that, if God should mark iniquity, it would be impossible for him to stand. In this melancholy situation he does not, like the man of the world, rise up in haughty rebellion against God; he does not say, Who is the Almighty, that I should serve him; and what profit shall I have, if I pray unto him? He does not insolently exclaim, Why doth he yet find fault, for who hath resisted his will? On the contrary, in the language of Job, he modestly cries out, Behold I am vile, what shall I answer thee? I will lay my hand upon my mouth. I abhor myself, and repent in dust and ashes. With Daniel he sets his face unto the Lord God, to seek by prayer and supplications, with fastings, and sackcloth, and ashes; and he prays unto the Lord his God, and makes his confession, and says, O Lord, the great and dreadful God! keeping the covenant and mercy to them that love thee, I have sinned, and have committed iniquity, and have done wickedly, and have rebelled by departing from thy precepts and from thy judgments.

But, although in himself he sees no means of deliverance or escape, he finds in the Scriptures of truth, ample provision made for both. The provision is complete. An expiation is there made for the sins of men; and a deliverance from the miseries, to which they were destined, effectuated; which involve all that the most sanguine mind can wish concerning both. Still, the scheme involves an absolute humiliation of human pride; for it represents

man as totally destitute of any thing in his native character, or in his efforts, which can recommend him to God, or which can be regarded by the final Judge as any ground of his justification. It is a scheme of mere mercy; and every one, who is to receive the blessings of it, must come in the character of a penitent, supplicating for pardon through the righteousness of a Redeemer.

Nothing can be more painful to pride than this scheme of deliverance; but nothing can be more welcome to the heart of genuine humility. God in the great work of forgiving, redeeming, and sanctifying man, appears to the humble penitential mind, invested with peculiar glory, excellence, and loveliness. God, says St. Paul, who commanded the light to shine out of darkness, hath shined into our hearts, to give us the light of the knowledge of the glory of God, in the face of Jesus Christ. In the work of Redemption, accomplished by this Divine person, the character of God is seen by the sanctified mind in a light entirely new, and more honourable to him than that which is presented by any other work either of Creation or Providence. His benevolence shines, here, in the exercise of mercy towards the apostate children of men, in a manner which is new and singular, a manner in which it has been displayed to the inhabitants of no other part of the Universe. Here, especially, it is discerned that God is Love; and the humble penitent is so deeply affected with the kindness manifested in expiating and forgiving sin, and renewing the soul, that he is ready to exclaim with the Psalmist, Not unto me, O Lord, not unto me, but to thy name give glory, for thy mercy, and for thy truth's sake. In the midst of his astonishment that such mercy should be extended to him, a poor, guilty, miserable wretch, unworthy in his own view of the least of all mercies, the pride even of self-righteousness is for a while at least laid asleep; and his thoughts and affections, instead of being turned towards himself, are absorbed in the condescension and goodness of his Father, Redeemer, and Sanctifier.

It is impossible for the man, in whom this attribute is found, not to turn his thoughts from time to time to the perfect purity of God. No subject of contemplation can more strongly impress upon the mind a sense of its own impurity. In his sight the heavens themselves are not clean, and the angels before him are charged with folly. How much more abominable and filthy to the eye of the penitent must man appear, who drinketh iniquity like water! In the sight of this awful and most affecting object, he will almost necessarily exclaim, with Job, I have heard of thee by the hearing of the ear, but now mine eye seeth thee! Wherefore I abhor myself, and repent in dust and ashes.

When such a man contemplates the character of his Christian brethren, emotions of the same general nature will necessarily occupy his mind. St. Paul has directed Christians to forbear one another in all lowliness and meekness of mind, and to esteem others bet

ter than themselves. This precept, which to a man of the world appears absurd and incapable of being obeyed, involves no difficulty in the eye of him who is evangelically humble. The sins of other Christians are of course, imperfectly known to him. Their sins of thought are all hidden from his eyes: their sins of action he rarely witnesses; and of those, which are perpetrated in his presence, he cannot know either the extent, or malignity. His own sins, in the mean time, both of heart and of life, are in a sense always naked before him; and he can hardly fail to discern, in some good degree, their number, their aggravations, and their guilt. Hence other Christians will, in a comparative sense, appear to him to be clean; while himself will seem unsound and polluted, from the crown of the head to the sole of the foot. In this situation, the difficulty of esteeming others better than himself vanishes. Impossible as it would be for a proud man to think in this manner; the only difficulty to the humble man is to think in any other.

Such at all times, with the exceptions for which the human character always lays the foundation, will be the emotions naturally imbibed and strongly cherished by Christian humility. But there are certain seasons, in which they will be excited in a peculiar degree. Such will be the case in the house of God. Here he is brought immediately into the presence of his Maker; here he appears in the character of a sinner and of a suppliant for mercy; here he draws nigh to his Maker in the solemn ordinances of the Sanctuary; here the character and sufferings of the Redeemer are set before him in the light of heaven; here he witnesses all the wonders of redeeming, forgiving, and sanctifying love. What God is, and what he himself is, what he has done to destroy himself, and what God has done to save him from destruction, are here presented to his eye, and brought home to his heart, in the most affecting manner. In this solemn place, also, he is in the midst of his fellowChristians, uniting with them in their prayers and praises, and sitting with them at the table of Christ to celebrate his sufferings, and the love wherewith he loved us and gave himself for us. In such a situation, how great and good must his Father, Redeemer, and Sanctifier appear! How little, how unworthy, how sinful! How strange must it seem, that he, who is unworthy of the least, should thus be put into the possession of the greatest of all mercies! How naturally, how often, and how anxiously, will he inquire, whether it can be proper, for such a being as himself, to unite with the followers of the Redeemer in their worship, share in their privileges, and participate in their hopes, and in their joys!

Feelings of the same general nature will also be awakened, and often in an equal degree, when he retires to his closet to pray to his Father who is in secret. Here he withdraws entirely from the world, and meets his Maker face to face. The Divine character, and his own, must be brought before his eyes in the strongest light, while he is employed in confessing his sins, and supplicating pardon and

sanctification; gratefully acknowledging the blessings which he has received, and humbly asking for those which he needs. How naturally would he exclaim, Lord, what is man, that thou art mindful of him, or the son of man, that thou shouldest visit him!

Such, if I mistake not, are the views formed by Christian humility; and such the affections of the mind in which it prevails.

REMARKS.

From these observations it is evident,

1st. That Evangelical humility is exactly conformed to the real circumstances and character of men.

The views, which the humble man entertains of himself, and of his condition, are exactly suited to both. He is just such a being as he supposes himself to be, and in just such a condition. His origin is as lowly, his situation as dependent and precarious, his mind as ignorant and erring, his character as guilty, and his destination fraught with as much distress and danger, as he himself realizes. His views therefore, are absolutely true and just. If such views then are honourable to a rational being, if no other thoughts can be honourable to such a being, then the views entertained by humility are honourable to the human character. On the contrary, the views of pride, or as Mr. Hume chooses to style it, self-valuation, are absolutely unsuited both to the condition and character of man. They are radically and universally unjust and false, and of course, are only disgraceful and contemptible.

The affections, which have been here considered as involved in humility, are evidently no less just. They spring irresistibly from the views; and no sober mind can entertain the latter without experiencing the former. These affections are all, plainly, the harmony of the heart with the dictates of the understanding : dictates seen and acknowledged to be just and certain, and, where the heart is governed by candour, irresistible. Whenever the mind sees itself to be thus ignorant, erring, and sinful, and its situation thus dependent, precarious, and distressing; it cannot, without violence done to itself, fail of feeling both the character and condition, and of feeling them deeply; for they are objects of immeasurable importance to its whole well-being. Equally just are the affections, which he exercises towards his Maker and his fellow-Christians. The difference between the character of God and his own character being seen to be such; so entire, so vast, particularly as He is infinitely holy and pure, while himself is altogether polluted with guilt; no emotions can be proper towards this great and glorious Being, which do not involve a strong sense of this amazing moral difference between Him and itself. In such a case, where there is no humility, there can be no reverence towards God; and were there is no reverence, it is impossible that there should be any thing acceptable towards Him.

In the same manner, humility enters into every other affection of a sanctified mind towards its Maker. Our views of the mercy of God exercised towards us, and the emotions excited by them, are exactly proportioned to the apprehensions, which we form of our own unworthiness. He, to whom much is forgiven, our Saviour informs us, will love much. Pardon, Mercy, and Grace, are terms which mean little, if they have any meaning that is realized, in the eye of him who is not humbled for his sins, and who does not feel his own absolute need of pardon. The Song of the redeemed is sung only by those, who realize the love of Christ, because he has washed them from their sins in his own blood. The gratitude, therefore, exercised to God for his unspeakable mercy, in forgiving our sins, and redeeming us from under the curse of the Law, will in a great measure be created by our humility.

In the same manner does it enhance our complacency in the Divine character. Of dependence it is the essence; of adoration, and indeed of all our worship, it is the substance and the soul.

2dly. From these observations it is evident, that no man can hope for acceptance with God without humility.

God, says the text, resisteth the proud, but giveth grace (or favour) to the humble. The proud, and the humble, are two great classes including the whole of the human race. Of which class, does it seem probable to the eye of sober reason, that the infinitely perfect Author of all things will select his own family, and the objects of his everlasting love: those who possess the views and the spirit here described; or those who indulge the "self-valuation" so grateful to Mr. Hume: those who boldly come before him, with God, I thank thee, that I am not as other men; or those who dare not lift up their eyes to heaven, but, smiting upon their breasts, say, God, be merciful to me a sinner? How obvious is it to common sense, that, if he accept any of our race, they will be such as have just views of their character and condition, of their own absolute unworthiness, of the greatness of his mercy in forgiving their sins and sanctifying their souls, of the transcendent glory of the Redeemer in becoming their propitiation, and of the infinite benignity of the Divine Spirit in renewing them in the image, and restoring them to the favour, of God. Who else can possess the spirit, who else can unite in the employments, who else can harmonize in the praises, of the first-born?

Let me ask, is it possible that a proud man should be a candidate for immortal life; whether proud of his birth, his wealth, his station, his accomplishments, or his moral character? Suppose him to arrive in the regions of life, in what manner would his pride be employed? Which of these subjects would he make the theme of his conversation with the spirits of just men made perfect? How would he blend his pride with their worship; how would he present it before the throne of God?